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Eighty Four

Aubrey Hart

I truly don't know how much more I can take.

I'm trying to be strong here, but as more days go by and the burns accumulate on my stomach, I keep losing more and more hope. I wish I had the ability to get myself out of this, but I can barely move with how little they feed me on a day-to-day basis. It's not that easy to fend for myself when I've lost a good amount of my muscle and the skin of my torso hurts with every movement I make.

It only took them witnessing me pass out for the tenth time since my arrival to begin feeding me. That specific time happened to be out of fear of what Thomas was going to do to me when he started touching me with his hands instead of a cigarette, but no matter the cause, I'm now being fed. I guess I should be appreciative since I can technically live without food for three weeks, but it's not like they're giving me much. I got a whole sandwich a couple of days ago, and that nutrition gave me the most satisfaction I've felt in a long while.

My hope is nearly diminished, it getting to the point where every second I'm not being tortured is spent being an emotional wreck over the fact that I could easily never see the people I love again. I know there are miracles in these types of situations. Instances where the victims are saved and escape. Given my track record, though, I wouldn't say the odds are necessarily in my favor.

Ian is good at what he does. He knows how to cover his tracks and hide his ideas from others when he wants to. This skill of his makes it nearly impossible for there to be any sort of traceable hint to our location. Others would only know something if he wanted them to. He only leaves traces of himself behind if he wants them to be found.

That detail about my captor makes me never want to be found. A part of me never wants anyone to come looking for me. I know they'll get hurt by the two sick and twisted people I'm trapped with. They'll get hurt, or maybe even worse than that, and there will be nobody to blame but me.

I wish I just had more time with everyone before I left. More of a moment of peace than I received. I would do absolutely anything for more time. It doesn't even have to be a lot. Five minutes would do. Five more minutes.

Five minutes to apologize to my moms for not being stronger to spare myself for them after already losing one daughter. Five minutes to pet a scared Charlie after being away from home for over a month. Five minutes to thank Jade and Zayn for everything they've done to protect and help me since we met. To give Ruby one last tight hug and allow her to assure me that she'll make sure Harry is okay. To thank Niall for showing me kindness from the second we met. To give everyone who supports me day in and day out a real goodbye. Five minutes to tell Harry how much I love him and never want him to give up, even without me being there to coach him through everything and provide him with a shoulder to cry on. He needs to be able to continue fighting without me, and I think a final word from me would help him do that.

Just five more minutes. Is that too much to ask?

My cheeks are wet with tears from the thought of seeing everyone again, so physically and emotionally drained by this entire experience and in need of some positive human interaction. I've always been one for a bit of space every once in a while, especially when living on my own. Living with Harry brought out a clingier side of me I've never really seen before, but that's another story for another time. Now, though, I miss having less space. I miss being beside someone at nearly all points of the day. I miss having someone to shield me from all of the different curveballs coming my way and attempting to knock me down.

Instead, I'm all alone and completely miserable in this position. Well, almost alone. I have yet to figure out the identity of the person I hear occasionally screaming in a room down the hall. The voice is too far for me to truly decipher, but it's definitely familiar. I don't think it's one I've heard extremely recently, and that's what's throwing me off. I ask Ian and Thomas about the voice over and over again each day, but neither of them will fess up. They hurt me more for asking, and there's only so much extra pain I can handle before reaching my limit and falling unconscious for the millionth time.